


Skin on Skin

by draculard



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sibling Incest, Thanos is a Bad Dad, cocsa, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 02:18:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17819915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Thanos forces them to do more than fight.





	Skin on Skin

The first time Thanos orders them to touch each other, Nebula barely comprehends his words. She’s never even thought about touching herself _down there_ \-- doesn’t understand why anyone ever would, what pleasure they could possibly get out of it. She’s six years old, so she’s not a baby, and she’s seen what Thanos does with Gamora, so she knows that other people do things like that, but she still doesn’t know the reason _why_.

Gamora does, though. She’s not much older, but when Thanos gives them the command -- after a fight, when they’re both breathing heavily, when Nebula is still lying, exhausted, on the ground -- there’s a spark of understanding in her eyes. She’s touched Thanos when he asked her to, and he’s touched her, brought her both pleasure and abominable pain. She’s even touched herself, alone in the bathroom, under the spray of hot water -- after a fight, or in bed at night, when Nebula is sound asleep next to her.

This isn’t something Gamora’s ever shared with Nebula. Even if she had the vocabulary to describe it, something would stop her. Shame, embarrassment - a sense of decency.

They both understand a little more, perhaps, than they’re supposed to. But Thanos is watching them, and he takes their silence and stillness for a lack of understanding.

He gets more specific.

“Gamora,” he says calmly, “remove your sister’s pants.”

Gamora hesitates, just long enough for Nebula to give her a searching, pleading look. But more than anything, the two of them are programmed to carry out Thanos’s orders, so when Gamora finally obeys, her movements are confident, deliberate, determined. An outsider would think she was moving of her own accord.

This is what Thanos wishes, so Nebula doesn’t struggle, but she doesn’t help Gamora, either. She lays there, dread sinking deep into her stomach, as her trousers are pulled off and the cold air hits the flesh of her one biological leg. Her sweat dries instantly and suddenly she’s shivering, staring straight up at the stars, pretending she can’t see Gamora from the corner of her eyes or feel Gamora’s warm hands on her skin.

“Touch her,” says Thanos, his voice steady. “You know where.”

Gamora does. Her fingers find a spot Nebula has never touched before, never even really thought of -- and unlike Thanos, Gamora knows how to make this all about pleasure. She would never hurt her little sister, not if she can help it, not like this. She’s gentle; she makes it feel good.

Today, that’s enough. Thanos doesn’t ask for more.

* * *

When they’re both young teenagers, that’s when Thanos finally crosses the line. He’s ordered them to touch each other so much already that their relationship is permanently warped; Gamora can’t look at her sister without feeling an unsettling mix of feelings -- her affection for Nebula, her fear of Thanos, her simultaneous disgust and love for what they do. And when Nebula looks at Gamora, her brain is at war with itself; she is looking at her sister, she knows that, but something inside her chest is burning, and it makes her mouth go dry with anticipation.

They’ve lost count of how many times Thanos has made them touch each other, but they haven’t lost count of the few stolen moments they’ve had together when Thanos wasn’t there, the times they never speak about.

The time they showered together and Gamora’s hand slipped between Nebula’s legs.

The night Nebula woke up, and saw Gamora’s hand moving furiously under the blankets, heard Gamora smothering gasps of arousal, and leaned over and smothered those gasps even further with a quick, furtive kiss that left her unable to sleep for hours, her lips tingling.

The day they sparred alone, without Thanos there to watch them, and they made eye contact between blows and suddenly a spark was there, and the fight wasn’t just a fight -- it was an excuse for contact, for Nebula to touch Gamora, skin-on-skin, gently and tenderly but without the complicated emotions that came with sex.

Today isn’t like those moments.

Today Thanos watches them and says, “Nebula, why don’t you fight back?”

And everything changes again.

Shame rushes up through Nebula’s body, through her chest, to her face, and she shoves Gamora off her with a strength she didn’t know she had. She sees the shocked, hurt look in Gamora’s eyes for a split second before Gamora wipes it away -- why shouldn’t Nebula push her away, after all? Neither of them wants this.

Neither of them wants this, Nebula tells herself.

“Fight back, Gamora,” Thanos says, voice clipped, like this is a business transaction. “Remember, you control the scene, not her.”

It’s just like him to turn this into a fight -- and at the same time Nebula thinks this, a wave of relief washes through her, because _finally_ she’s allowed to fight back. She can’t explain this contradiction but it’s there, living inside her, and as she attacks Gamora, dodging her blows and worming out of tackles and throwing punches of her own, she can’t decide why exactly she feels like crying.

After that day, Gamora and Nebula don’t sleep in the same bed, and they don’t have anymore secret moments. They avoid each other studiously, both aware of the rift between them, both unable to change it.

In her new bedroom, at night, Nebula drowns out the pain from her cybernetic implants by slipping a hand between her legs the way Gamora used to do. She closes her eyes and finds that sensitive little button that Gamora could make sing. Nebula isn’t gentle with herself the way Gamora was; masturbation is dry and painful and tiring for her. She refuses, on principle, to indulge in any sort of fantasy that might make this process easier for her.

When pain finally turns into pleasure, just for a few seconds before orgasm, Gamora’s face inevitably flashes before Nebula’s eyes. Sometimes she banishes it and the orgasm dies before it really begins. Sometimes she can’t unsee it, sometimes she almost feels Gamora’s mouth on hers, remembers the smell of sex when they shared a bed and Gamora did things like this in the dark, and then pleasure crashes down on her so hard she sees stars.

“You’re too kind to her, Gamora,” says Thanos the next day, when she and Nebula are sparring. His eyes pin Nebula down, cold and distant, and she’s so unused to his attention that she squirms under the glare, chest tight.

“I’m not kind to her,” Gamora says. Nebula can’t look at her, not while Thanos is staring at her the way he is. She hears the coldness in Gamora’s voice but she doesn’t believe it -- Gamora has never been a good actor -- and she knows Thanos doesn’t, either.

“Prove it,” he says.

The next five minutes are quick and excruciating. Gamora always wins when they fight and today is no exception; though Nebula uses all her strength, dodges as quickly as she can, fights furiously, ferally, she still winds up pinned to the floor, in pain and exhausted, trembling and barely able to move.

“Prove it,” says Thanos again, and Gamora looks at Nebula, her eyes pleading. She’s straddling Nebula’s waist, radiating warmth -- from exertion, from arousal -- and Nebula can feel Gamora’s heartbeat thumping through her skin. Gamora’s hands are on Nebula’s wrists, keeping them above her head.

She proves it. She is unkind. She leaves bruises and bite marks on what’s left of Nebula’s biological skin. Her fingers tear Nebula apart, moving in and out with no warning, no gentleness, no preparation. When it’s over, Nebula is rigid with pain and bleeding, and she’s never bled down there before. She lays still, trousers around her ankles, shirt ripped open, and stares up at the sky.

It feels like her ears are full of cotton. She hears, from a distance, the muffled noise of Thanos praising Gamora for what she’s done, Gamora’s shy, “Thank you, Father” -- and that’s when Nebula closes her burning eyes. There’s real pleasure in Gamora’s voice, slight and tinged with guilt.

Eyes closed, all sound fading away, Nebula takes a deep, slow breath. When she can see and hear again, Thanos and Gamora are gone, and the sky has turned grey, and she is bleeding and alone on the sparring court floor. She doesn’t cry; she stares up at the sky, hoping it will rain, and all she feels is numbness, spreading through her body, taking away the electric pain from her cybernetic implants, taking away the raw ache between her legs.

She breathes in again, breathes out.

When she thinks of Gamora, a strange sharpness stabs right through her chest with no clear emotion attached to it, so Nebula concentrates on the numbness and directs it toward that feeling, directs it toward her memories of Gamora, until everything is washed away. No pleasure. No pain.

In her head, she hears Gamora’s voice one last time, saying “Thank you, Father.”

And then Nebula decides she will never feel anything for Gamora again.


End file.
